


This "Hot Chocolate" Stuff

by SquirrelWriter



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Complete, Fluff, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrelWriter/pseuds/SquirrelWriter
Summary: In which Din is given this "hot chocolate" stuff as a gift and regards it dubiously. He'd shove it in the back with the emergency rations, but the child insists otherwise.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	This "Hot Chocolate" Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePatchyCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePatchyCat/gifts).



> Happy birthday, sis! I offer this fluffy short as a token of familial affection. I haven't written for The Mandalorian fandom before, but IIRC you've been on a Star Wars kick and we both loved that show, so... here we go!
> 
> You're wonderful. Never forget it.

When Din had been given this "hot chocolate" stuff along with the reward money and ship repairs, he had planned to shove it in the back with the emergency rations. The inhabitants of this middle-of-nowhere planet had assured him it was a local delicacy, but they also feasted on bowlfuls of some questionable concoction that had roughly the consistency of boogers, so Din had some reservations about their tastes. When the time came to leave, he'd inclined his head, thanked the local magistrate, and retreated to his ship as quickly as he could--well, without making it look like he was running away.

Which he kind of was.

Grogu had found the two-headed monster leech spawn delectable. Din had not.

"Aaaah," cooed Grogu as the door slid shut behind them. The two of them were left blinking in the dimly lit hall, surrounded by metal walls, rivets, and the steady, multicolored little lights from miscellaneous tech interfaces.

"Yeah, good bye, leech world," agreed Din wearily. He knelt down and scooped up Grogu, who gurgled happily and patted Din's helmet. Even now, Din couldn't get over how little this child was. Grogu weighed less than the pack of supplies that Din had just been given; he was all tiny limbs, all soft skin and fragile bones. Din couldn't shake the fear that he wasn't handling Grogu gently enough--that he wasn't capable of it--that one day, somehow, his battle-hardened hands would hurt the child.

"Aaah-ha-gah."

That day was not today, though.

Din carefully set Grogu down, shucked off the pack, and started picking his way through the supplies. Nutribars--good. Medical supplies--nice. Canister of hot chocolate... right, that dodgydelicacy the locals had told him about. Din would deal with that later. He set it aside in favor of shelving the medical supplies. He ignored the gentle hum of his ship's life support systems and the shuffle of child-sized feet. Nothing out of the ordinary. (Whatever Grogu was doing, he probably couldn't get into too much trouble. Din had taken measures to Grogu-proof the ship by now. Kind of. To the extent that anything could be Grogu-proofed, which... Wasn't much.)

"A-guh!"

Din's response was automatic, a warning on his lips before he even turned around. "Kid," he began, "whatever you're messing with, put it--oh."

Grogu held up the hot chocolate canister. Or, more accurately, he hugged it and lifted it a couple of centimeters off the ground, because the canister was nearly as big as him. The canister gleamed, silver-bright against the dusty brown of his robe and the swamp green of his hands and head. Grogu peered around the canister and up at Din, his ears perked. "Abawa gaaaaah!" He shook the canister. It didn't make much noise, Din noted--it sounded like it was full of a fine powder, as opposed to hard chunks or sloshing liquid.

"I don't know what that stuff is. Probably tastes as good as that booger stew."

"Gah." Grogu held out the canister insistently.

Din sighed. "Fine. Let's take a look."

Din took the "hot chocolate" from Grogu and unscrewed the lid. Inside was--as he'd guessed--a fine powder. It was a deep, rich brown, like loamy earth without all the clumps and worms and gunk. He wondered--was it supposed to be savory? Or maybe it tasted like caf. He'd tried caf once, and only once. Bitter stuff. Also rare and dark brown. Caf was a stimulant, which was the last thing Din needed. He felt stressed enough without a jitter-inducing medicine, thanks.

"A guh? Guh buwibm?" Grogu waved his hands excitedly.

"You really want to try this stuff, huh, kid--Grogu?"

Grogu nodded.

Was this even safe for Grogu to eat? (Was it even safe for Din to eat?) ...Eh, given some of the other things the kid put in his mouth... "Fine."

Grogu clapped delightedly.

Din closed the lid and squinted at the side of the canister. It had written instructions in a language Din could read, thank the stars. Alright, so he'd need to dig out his processor from... Wherever he'd put it last. He'd need water. And milk. Din didn't keep fresh milk, but the powdered stuff was probably fine if he added more water.

Grogu babbled, patted Din as high as he could reach (which was approximately mid calf), and toddled purposefully toward the galley kitchen.

Din sighed and followed.

It took a while to assemble everything. Din's multiprocessor was hiding at the back of a drawer; it was faded and banged up, but still functional. The milk was hiding behind the nutrient bars. The water had to be extracted from its storage tank. Grogu followed along all the while, babbling excitedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me some time, here."

"Blah."

Din shoved everything into the multiprocessor. He was maybe sixty percent sure he'd used the right slots. He jabbed a few buttons, and the old machine gurgled to life. A ribbon of steam rose from the processor's pressure vent. The air took on an unfamiliar, sweet aroma. At last, the processor dinged, and the indicator light switched from yellow to green. Din pulled out a mug and filled it to the brim, then eyed the contents with suspicion. This "hot chocolate" stuff looked like muddy water--the kind so thick and dark that it made him think of storm-afflicted swamps at night. Was it supposed to look like this? Was it actually edible?

"Aaaaah!" An invisible force yanked the mug out of Din's hands.

"Grogu!"

Grogu held the mug and gazed up at him as if to say, _Look at me, I'm so cute! Not secretly a gremlin, not at all. You can't be mad at a face this cute, right?_

"I haven't tried it," Din warned.

Grogu cooed. Then he tipped the mug back and took a long, deep draught. His ears perked.

Din blinked. "Huh. Alright then."

Grogu hummed contentedly. He took another long draught, then held out the mug as if it were an offering to a god. It was half empty, Din noted.

"For me?"

Grogu gurgled.

"No thanks." Din had no particular desire to drink Grogu's backwash. "There's more. I'll get my own."

He filled a second mug. Din hesitated; then, with a slow exhale, he set down the mug and lifted his helmet. Technically, it did not violate The Way to do so here in the privacy of his ship, even with Grogu. The Way granted exceptions for caretakers and their foundlings. It was necessary. Small children couldn't be left unattended every time their guardians ate or drank. Still, removing his helmet made Din feel... Vulnerable, somehow. He could practically feel Grogu's gaze on the back of his head.

Din set the helmet aside and picked up his mug. He was still facing the counter.

Grogu burbled.

"You reeeally want me to try this stuff, huh?"

"Ah guh!"

"Alright, alright. I'm drinking it, see?" Din mentally braced himself and took a swig from the mug.

Oh.

"Holy shit."

Din hadn't been prepared for it to actually be good.

The hot chocolate was smooth and bittersweet, thicker and richer than the caf he'd tried that one time. It settled in his stomach, warm and satisfying. It felt like something he could wind down with, or something he could have with breakfast if it was a slow enough day--if he wasn't busy dealing with the monster/gunman/threat/whatever of the week. This wasn't anything like muddy water. It wasn't anything like caf, either. It wasn't like anything Din had ever tasted.

From somewhere near Din's ankles, Grogu said delightedly, "Hahlee sihtu."

"Don't say that," Din chided, but the admonishment had no real heat behind it. The kid had seen Din skewer beasts and shoot people down. What were a few swears, at this point? Din glanced down. Grogu stared straight back at Din's naked face, clutching his empty mug as if it were something precious. "Hey kid--Grogu. Grogu, you want a refill?"

"A huh."

"You got it."

Din refilled Grogu's mug, and then he refilled his own, and then he refilled Grogu's mug again. Grogu plopped down on the floor, feet sticking out from under his robe like a doll's. He patted the floor and gave Din a hopeful look. Din took the hint and sank down next to him, cradling his mug. Grogu nodded approvingly and continued to drink. Din watched him, bemused. Grogu must've had, like, half his volume in hot chocolate by now. Where was the kid putting it all?

"You were awfully eager to try this stuff," said Din eventually. "Have you had it before? Did you know it was good?"

Grogu simply looked at him, long and intent, with a meaning that Din didn't know how to decipher. There might've been joy in that face. There might've been some melancholy in there, too. It occurred to Din that if Grogu'd had hot chocolate, it was probably during innocent times long past--before the end of the Jedi order. Before Grogu's life had been upended and filled with fear and danger.

"I'll take that as a maybe." Din paused, then added, "I'll make this again, okay? As often as we've got time for it."

"M ha." Grogu leaned against Din's side with a small, happy noise.

Din let himself smile, and he drank.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know enough about the Star Wars universe to work with a canon planet (and I'm too lazy to research them), so I made up one without a name and figured that the two-headed monster leeches fit right into this universe. Likewise, I didn't look up schematics of Din's ship. I just figured he should have a kitchenette somewhere and ran with it.
> 
> I did do some Googling regarding how Din eats and his sect's rules for helmet removal. I believe what I have written is accurate, or at least close enough.
> 
> I imagine this taking place at some point shortly after meeting Ahsoka and before the finale episodes. 'Course, the fic doesn't explicitly say, so interpret as you like.
> 
> I _think_ the G rating is appropriate here. There's a swear word in this fic, but only one, and the rest of the content is about as innocent as it gets.
> 
> I hope you all are staying warm. Take care!


End file.
